Joker escorted Julie into the club called The Stage Door Canteen, a club set up like one of those joints visited by the military before heading off to fight during the Second Great War.Julie was delighted, of course.She loved anything retro and the music that permeated the room as they entered was “Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen” by the AndrewsSisters.

A bit taken aback by the odd pair that just entered, the man stuttered, “Uh…S-sir do you-you have a re-reser-reservation?”

“Why yes!Yes I do.Check under Jay Ochre, party of twoooo.”

The nervous young man checked his reservations and found what he was looking for.“Oh!Well… Uh… Welcome to The Stage Door Canteen.Do you have a sitting preference?”

“We want a table on the dance floor, buddy-boy.We intend to hoof it tonight.”

“Very…uh very well, fol-follow me.”

They followed the skittish man to a simple wooden table covered with a red and white checkered table cloth with a tea light right in the middle.The young man sat Joker and his female doppelganger, informing them that their server would be there shortly.Almost immediately, a young woman appeared, dressed in a standard waitress uniform you’d see in 1943.After her initial shock at whom she’d be serving tonight, she took their orders and left.Joker ordered for Julie without asking her and noted her pleased expression at this turn of events.She was truly submissive.No wonder she’d developed such an affection for him, the Alpha Male criminal who had nothing to lose by his actions.

He smiled a quirky smile at her after the server left and said, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungreee after the appetizer I gave you in-n the car, but we can always put what you can’t-t finish in a to-go box.”

“Indeed!”Julie said merrily.

Ella was playing over the sound system in the club.She was crooning “Moanin’ Low.”There were several couples on the floor.

“While we wait on our food, shall we dance?”

Before she knew it, Joker was out of his seat and leaning down toward Julie, his arm extended.Grinning, she took the crook of his elbow and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor.If it had been anyone else, they would have been surprised by J’s abilities as a dancer, but Julie wasn’t.She always knew that the man the Gotham authorities were so hell-bent on capturing had infinite layers to him.They’d discussed it during the sitting sessions, when he’d asked her why she’d drawn those pictures for the newspaper.

“I was hoping you’d see them for what they were, my way of reaching out to you.”

“And reach out you did, Peaches!Aren’t you glad I took notice?Now here we are: me, the mass-murdering psychopathic killer clown and you, the meek, mild-mannered poster child for baseball, hotdogs, apple pie and Chevrolet – HA HA HA ha… well, why aren’t you laughing, Podling?Don’tcha get the reference?That old Chevy commercial touting all those great American institutions?”

“I’m uh…I’m kinda Canadian.”

And ohhhh, how he’d laughed at that, not at the fact that she was Canadian, but at how she’d informed him.From there, their discussion developed into how people perceive each other and how a person can be pigeonholed into one little category out of which they have absolutely no hope of ever clawing their way clear.He seemed so normal and was so funny, far from the maniac he portrayed himself to be in the home movies he’d sent to GCN.

Now here they were swaying to the sultry sounds of Ella Fitzgerald, his kohl-smudged eyes boring their way into hers.Julie had always found him fascinating but, now…now, she was just completely in love with him.When he took control in the car, that was what clinched it for her.She was lost to Joker’s every charm.

They danced one more dance before dinner.Joker spun Julie about with grace and skill to Artie Shaw’s “Frenesi,” as people watched in curious awe and not a small amount of fear that they were beholding one of Gotham’s most dangerous criminals owning the dance floor with a woman dressed just like him as they danced the Lindy Hop.

The winded couple sat down and enjoyed a wonderful dinner of baked chicken, baked sweet potato, mixed vegetables, rolls, and hot blueberry pie with ice cream for dessert.While they were eating the main course, Joker leaned over and turned his head slightly, squinting his eyes and smiling.

“Oh yes! Yes, I’m so very ready, Tootsie Pop-p.” Joker came over and sat down in the tattered easy chair they’d chosen for him to sit in for the painting. Julie said she could touch up the chair in the painting to where it would look opulent. The pose chosen was Joker sitting back all the way, his arms stretched out the length of the chair arms, a glowering expression on his face. It wasn’t much of an effort for him and it seemed to delight Julie that she was getting to paint her favourite subject in his element, so to speak. His legs, too, were outstretched and crossed languidly at the lower thigh.

“This is just for touch ups, Mister J. Then we’ll be done. We’ll just have to wait for the painting to dry and it’s yours if you want it.”

“And that’s it? No payment?”

“No!” Julie blurted out, then blushed. “No.. I mean, it was just an honour to get to do this, and do it right! I could probably do a thousand things better, but I think you’ll be pleased.”

“Oh, well, Sweetums, I’m already pleased-d. What say, if you won’t take payment forrr the piece, I take you for a night on the town. You know…just to show my appreee-shee-ay-shun-n.”

“Uh….”

“What? Afraid to go on a date with the Clown Prince of Crime? Or ashamed-d?”

“No no! I’d love to! But are you sure? I mean….really?”

Joker grinned, allowing the smile to stretch forever, knowing how it would make Julie feel. She was so smitten with him, it was ridiculous. “Why, I’d have it-t no…other…way, Ms. Carlsbad. So, how about this Saturday? I’ll pick you up around, saaaay, 7:00? There’s this romantic little joint nearrr here that may – ah – tickle your fancy. Dining, dancing, all that good-d stuff.”

“Okay. A date it izzz. Now, let’s see the finished product-t. Can’t wait to see it. I’m all a-dither.”

Julie turned the canvas around to reveal her painting of Joker. There he sat in a dark blue velvet easy chair, his arms extended in an almost three-dimensional effect. Same with his legs. He leaned back languidly, his head inclined downward with one eyebrow cocked with amusement. His war-paint had been meticulously applied to the painting itself, covering the scars in a mad grin made all the crazier by the delighted smirk he’d maintained for the duration of the painting. His green hair tumbled in chaotic curls down the sides of his face, some teasing the edges of his panda eyes. He was in his signature almost-Zoot suit with the Paisley shirt instead of the beehive shirt, and the Argyle socks were clearly noticeable. All-in-all, the painting was a love letter in imagery. How sweet.

Have I proofed? Hell no. I'm too strapped for time. luvthyjoker, enjoy! And, if you come across any glaring typos or other horrid mistakes, let me know and I'll fix it. On to NaNo! ::mad cackles::

This Date is dedicated to Meg Farley, who drew for me the best art I’ve ever had drawn in honor of my stories. You can find all of her fantastic work, including the two pieces she did for me, on her Deviant Art Page. She’s also a big Joker fan and an avid gory horror movie aficionado. Combine those two, and you have a nifty Date Night just begging to be written. It didn’t hurt that she’d always wanted to be murdered in a story. It was…::does the Fosse hands::…DESTINY

Some notes of importance:

·Joker in a pimped out ride is my attempt at dream realisation. I listen to a lot of the songs J has on his iPod (because they’re…identical) and I often find myself wishing to God I had a pimped out ride in which to better listen to a lot of my tunes. And, yes, I turn and nod knowingly at people at red lights. I’m my own Joker. Deal.

·The Lindey Hop is a real dance. Look it up.

·The Stage Door Canteen is named for a song on my iPod-d. Look it up.

·This is my second fanfic written after my Head J became Reconciled J. Folks who read it may see one J or the other here and there. That’s what happens when you’re writing fanfic about a character that’s been played by more than one person, has been animated, committed to graphic novel, and is the manifestation of the Trickster archetype known by many names, the most popular being Loki and Coyote. That said, there’s a bit of The Mask in there, too. How else would he know the Lindey Hop and Jitterbug? Better to have one Reconciled J merged with your own personal J than have 1001 “crazy” clowns scampering about in your head, especially when you suffer from coulraphobia.

·In-Jokes: If any of you get ‘Garmonbozia,’ ‘Respectable Street,’ ‘Shah-day, not Shar-day,’ J’s dislike for apologies, and the playing of “Soul Bossa Nova,” at the time Joker really starts to work his mojo on Julie, email me and, if you’re right, I’ll give you a cookie online…everywhere…and people will all be like WTF? Unless you want me to tell why you’re getting the cookie.

·J wearing a Paisley shirt for special occasions is a nod of appreciation and affection for Sweet Sophie (paisleydaze). The ellipses and tildes are all in honour of Jill (gunslingaaahhh). Without her, Billshat would remain nameless and not nearly as hilarious.

The Artist’s Date

He sat in the front seat of the vehicle with Sidney at the wheel.On the iPod there blared “Deuces” by AcHoZeN.It made the car throb, and rightfully so, considering Joker’s henchmen had stolen one of the most pimped-out cars that ever dared roll upon the dingy asphalt roads of Gotham City.

Sidney slowed the car to a halt at a red light and Joker rolled his eyes.As long as he was in this ride, he was compelled to turn to the people next to him at a red light and nod knowingly to the beat of his tunes.Slowly, Joker turned his head to see a family of five sitting in a gigantic SUV.It towered over his 1976 Buick Regal, sparkling in its purple glitter finish in the setting Gotham sun.He smirked and nodded at the family, who stared back in horror at the most wanted man in Gotham, styling in a blinged-out 33-year old vehicle that shook with hydraulics that trembled to be used.

On impulse, Joker rolled down his window, and let the sound of “Deuces” blast out at the family.He motioned for the father and driver to roll his own window down.The man did out of some misplaced politeness.

“Don’t you knowww it isn’t polite to starre?”Joker asked the man.

“Uh…sorry?”

Joker smoothly aimed his sawed off shotgun out the window at the man.“You can’t stare if you don’t have eyes, isn’t that right-t?”

About that time the light turned green and the man gunned his SUV.Joker cackled with glee as Sidney began to pull forward at a normal rate of speed.

“Y’know boss, it’s kind of hard not to stare at this car.”

“Which is exactly why I plan on turning the goons who stole this monstrosity for my use into mince meat at my earliest convenience.For nowww, though, I have a preeety little little ladeee to pick up for our penullltimate date and I don’t want to be late, so can we put the pedal to the metal just a tad-d Sidney, hm?”

Sidney sped up just a little.He didn’t want to draw too much attention, despite the car.If they were stopped by the police, there’d be a bloodbath and Joker would be picking Julie up in a cop car instead.Despite his career in crime, Sidney tried to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, especially with Joker involved.It was a difficult job to say the least.

“Boss…”Sidney began.

“What-t, Sidney?”

“Is it… Is it really necessary to go on this date?I mean, can’t you just leave Julie to her own devices?”

“Bustin’ Loose” by Check Brown and the Soul Searchers undulated from the gigantic speakers that had been installed in Joker’s sweet new ride.It was all very surreal to Sidney.

“Whhhaaaat-t?And let her splash my face all over the place?If anyone is going to do thaaat, it’ulll be mee, Sidney.No no no no…No.Time to show Julie that lovely romantic evening I promised her.You know what to do.”

Sidney bought a Gotham Times and saw an illustration of Joker on the front page of the newspaper.Not a photograph, not this time.It was a flawless pencil illustration of his boss splashed across the front page with the caption “Public Enemy Number 1.”What was he, now, James Cagney?

But the illustration was striking in that you could see the man underneath the war paint and that was alarming to Sidney.How could the boss ever go out without the war paint if he were ID’d by an artist who had too good of an eye?

He took the paper back to their mill house and, finding Joker in the kitchen swilling down copious amounts of Irish Breakfast tea and scarfing down five pieces of toast, Sidney opened the folded paper in front of him and let him see for himself.

Joker stopped in half-chew and just stared.

“That-t…is meee!”

“Yeah, boss.”

“Not just me, but me – me!”

“Yeah, boss.”

Joker shoved the rest of the toast in his mouth and slowly took the paper.He studied it like an archaeologist staring at pottery chip in Egypt.Then he cut his eyes to Sidney.

“Oh…She’s goooood.”

“Why do you say ‘she,’ J?”

“A man wouldn’t draw me this well.There are layers to this picture.The one who drew this is in-vest-ted-d.She may have drawn it for the Gotham Times to try to catch me, but she’s enthralled with the subject matter.A man would not be that – ah – fascinated-d.Ha.Let me see herrrre…”

Joker rifled through the pages of the paper and found the credits.

“AHA!What did I tell you, Sidney?Right…herrrre…Julie Carlsbad.Well, let-t us go.”

“Where, J?”

“Well, to see Julie of course!I’ll take my laptop with me so’s I can locate this little minx… Shame on her for exposing me like this!This just…won’t…doooo.”

Sidney got the car, a plain blue Nissan Sentra at this time, but it was being looked for, so they’d have to change cars soon.He waited out front for Joker, who soon emerged in his long violet coat and gloves, his laptop clamped under his right arm.He was tossing Cupid up in the air and catching it with a flourish.This was the end of Julie Carlsbad, Sidney just knew it.

Joker opened the front door and jumped in.Only with Sidney did he occasionally ride shotgun…often literally.Upon closer inspection, Sidney noted that J was wearing his special maroon and cream Paisley shirt, a dark blue tie, and his signature green vest and navy pinstripes.He probably had on the Argyles as well, but Sidney couldn’t see without craning his neck and he didn’t want to seem that obvious.

“Paisley shirt, boss?That special of a day?”

“Well, you don’t often get to meet a not-so-secret admirerrr, Sidney.Better to be spiff than to look all ratty, don’tcha think-k?”

“I’ve never had an admirer, J, so I can’t really say.”

“HEE! HAHAHAHAHAHA!Stick with me, Sidney.I’ll show you how to be a smoooooth operator before you can say ‘It’s SHAH-DAY not SHAR-DAY, you fucking moron!’”

Sidney joined in on the off-the-hook cackling as they pulled away from the curb and out into the sparse traffic.Still laughing, Joker opened up his laptop and started ticking away furiously.When they came to the first red light, Sidney asked Joker which way he should go.

“Straight-t.Just keep going straight until I find herrr…”

So Sidney kept going straight until he reached the bridge to the Narrows.He was about to continue on when a purple-gloved hand grabbed his arm. “No no no, Sidney.Don’t ever everrr take me over there.I’ll cross thaaat bridge when I come to it in an armoured police vehicle, you got me?”

Sidney dutifully turned the Sentra around and zizzed back from whence they came.He began to get directions from the Joker.

“Okaaaay, Sidney, turn right here on Grey Street.Go approximateleee, one point-t five miles, then turn right onto McKatet.Hey, Sidney, I sound like one of those Garmans.I prefer Gar-mon-bo-zia, though.Ha..Yes, here’s McKatet.Now…make a left here onto Wheaton, and then turn immediateleee onto Respec-ta-bull Street.Who knew there was a Respec-ta-bull Street in Gotham City, Sidney?I didn’t know there was a thing reee-spec-ta-bull about this hellhole!HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Joining in the laughter, Sidney continued to drive until Joker screamed, “Staaahhp!Right there, this building.Full of studio apartments, I’m surrre.She is an arteeest after all!Be right back, Sid.Don’t go anywhere!”

Joker jumped out of the car, leaving his laptop behind, then popped his head back in.“Surrrf the ‘Net if ya wanna, Sid-d.I know how you like to watch those Hulu-hoop shows.Maybe you can catch that movie you’ve been wanting to watch about candy.”

“Sure, boss,” Sidney said, agreeably.Of course, Joker meant Netflix and the movie was called Candy, but J wasn’t known for his savvy on the Internet except for tactical maneuvers, so Sidney had learned to just grin and bear it.

Julie Carlsbad had her back to the door of her studio apartment.He stood looking at the wall, the canvas that was vexing her behind her, sitting in silent mockery.She just couldn’t seem to get the painting right.She’d drawn him many times but, the larger she tried to go, the less it looked like him, at least in her opinion.But Julie was her own worst critic.

“UGH!”She growled at the wall in front of her.“UGH UGH!Why can’t you just be easy?”

On closer inspection, there was a small picture on the wall.It was a picture of the Joker, printed from the Internet.She was talking to him.

“Well, hello there…”

Julie let loose a full-throated shriek as she spun and threw her back against the wall, knocking loose the picture she’d been been addressing in frustration.When she saw who it was who’d said hello, Julie screamed again.

J looked at her, vague amusement twinkling in his kohl-rubbed eyes.She was a tall young woman with stick-straight blonde hair that featured swaths of green, red, and blue throughout.Her fox face was make-up free, but was decorated with an almost leopard-print of freckles right across the nose and cheeks.

“Jumpy thing, aren’tcha?” he observed, pulling off one glove, then the other, with zero concern in his voice or body language.

“Get out get out!I’ll call the cops!Omigod, get out!”

Joker noted that Julie was mustering all the forcefulness she could in her naturally meek voice.

Bending toward her and cocking his head to the right in one smooth movement, Joker simply said, “NO!”

He didn’t even shout it, he just said it with conviction.And this turned on the faucets.Julie began to cry with fright.“How – how did you get in here?Please, just go!Please?”

“I said-d NO!”Joker started toward Julie who began to jump on the balls of her feet out of panic.He didn’t care.He wanted to see the painting and he wanted to get closer to her to see just how panicked she’d get.Part of him hoped she’d pass out from the excitement because she wasn’t nearly so frightened as she was embarrassed and excited.Oh yes, she had a bad crush on somebody and his name began with the letter J.Joker began to giggle under his breath as he approached her.

“Please don’t kill me.”

“Oh, I think you’d rather me kill you than look at this painting of yours, Chick-o-stix.So what’s it gonna be – a peek at the picture or a blade in the breastbone?”

Julie quieted down and pressed herself even harder into the white plaster wall behind her as Joker rounded the canvas to see what all the hubbub was about.He found that he was staring back at himself.She was really good, this artist.The painting was from a photograph taken of him by a security camera on an armoured car service’s truck.The vehicle had been packed to the gills with cashola the Joker had wanted.He didn’t care that he was being filmed and photographed murdering the driver and commandeering the vehicle.He just wanted that money so he could buy more toys and people, not that there was any difference between the two.People were just toys that didn’t know when to shut up usually.The photo Julie was working from was of Joker looking directly into the camera and sporting a winning, shit-eating grin.His right cheek was spattered lightly with the blood of the former driver and his green hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail.All-in-all, it was a pretty flattering photo of him, and the painting was even better, or it would be when it was finished.

“Oh, I like this, Julie.When it’s finished, I may even buy it from you.”

“I – I’m not finishing it.It’s horrible.I can’t get it right.”

“Wwwhaaaaat-t?No, see, you have no choice.Well, actu-a-leee, you do.You can either finish this painting or I’ll sit for you.”

Julie froze, her eyes widening into large circles of surprise.“Whaaat?”

“Oh, you’re imitating me now, too?”Joker produced his Cupid and flicked it open, pointing it Julie with an admonishing gesture.“It’s not polite to make fun, didn’t your motherrr ever teach you that-t?”

“No!I mean yes!I mean….I don’t know what I mean!I was just – shocked is all.You’d sit for me?Me?”

Joker shot Julie a smouldering glance and let his tongue dance across his lips in a playful seduction.“I saw your art-t in the newspaper.You’re verrrry good at what you do, ragamuffin.Too good.Anyone who cares to take notice can see the real me underneath the war paint in your lit-tle illustration.That won’t do.So…”

And Joker swept his curly locks away from his face as he plopped down on the cracked vinyl sofa near the canvas.He looked up at Julie, who remained frozen against the wall.“So….” He continued.“I’ll sit for you if you stop drawing those little pictures for the Gotham Times.We can’t have the Great-t Unwashed identifying the man beneath the clown as you obviously already have with your keen little artist’s eye…”

So an agreement was made.And, over the course of two weeks, Joker visited Julie every day and sat for her as she painted him.It turned out that, yes, she was a great admirer of his.Crazy about him, to be exact.And she was fascinated with his face, how it was constructed and how the scars had only served to bring out the best aspects of his features.He didn’t mind Julie discussing his scars, but he did wonder why she never asked how he got them.During their time together, Joker learned that Julie was a hopeless romantic.It was in her movie collection.

While he was waiting for her to get the paint mixed and ready, Joker studied Julie’s vast movie collection.Besides a fair amount of horror, she also had a huge collection of old-fashioned romances like The Strawberry Blonde and Bringing Up Baby.There was another movie that caught Joker’s eye, too, and it gave him a little hitch in the underpants to boot:The Secretary.Now that was a movie only a certain kind of woman would have in her collection…Just thinking about it made Joker narrow his eyes and let his grin spread out across his face like the Grinch who was about to steal Christmas.

I'm in the process of wrapping up yet another Date story, this one being called "The Artist's Date." And, yes, it's a kind of creative payment for art done for me. I think that's how all creative people should gift one another, with the products of their creative effort. I was gifted with some art inspired by "The Sainted Confessor." As a result, I'm writing "The Artist's Date" in return. I'd like to see it paid forward to see how it manifests from one creator to another. It's that creative spark that inspired the first cave paintings and has been running along the longest dynamite fuse of all time. Once the spark hits that dynamite, who knows what will happen? Oh, that's right...2012!

As soon as I finish "The Artist's Date," I need to complete my outline of The Blood Crown for NaNoWriMo. "The Sainted Confessor" was always going to be the largest chapter in the book and, since I had to go ahead and write it thanks to anchoring Faust to the worst person on Earth, it totally messes with my word count for NaNo. It reached novella status, it got so huge (38,605 words!), and I actually had to break it down into mini-chapters. They are entitled: "The Timeless Vagabond," "Session One," "Session Two," "Session Three," "Session Four," and "The Incorruptible Dove." If I reach my 50k for NaNo, the novel will be right at 89,000 words. The Chalice is 88,650 words. That said, I'm thinking that The Vampire Relics will be one great big book with three pretty decent-sized parts. I'll leave a decision like that, though, to my editor. ;)

I know I haven't been the most communicative person of late, thanks to my involvement with The Joker Blogs. Since I'm participating in NaNoWriMo, it's not going to be much better, but I do plan on writing about my progress here. Hopefully, I can keep up with my f-list on a certain level too. I hope so. I miss everyone here.

Speaking of The Joker Blogs, I'll be busy tomorrow getting ready for a double release of Bloggy Goodness Saturday morning. At least that's the plan, not that any of us officially plan anything, in the tradition of The Joker in TDK. We all just "do things." But I will say that I'm slowly preparing for the viral onslaught come Saturday. And I'm pleased that the Halloween task instructions seem pretty clear. No one has really asked "what the hell does this mean?" So I guess I did my job there okay. I love writing out task instructions and Blog synopses, among other things, for Dude. I can't say I've enjoyed doing something this much in a very long time. I'll be sad to see it end.

As for doing things for The Joker Blogs and participating in NaNoWriMo, I don't know where my head is, but I'm going to attempt to do both. The only reason I'm doing NaNo is to finish The Blood Crown. If I don't make my 50k because I'm busy with The Joker Blogs, then so be it. I made a promise months ago and I intend to stand by that promise no matter what. Either way, I'll be winning because I'll be that much closer, if not finished with, The Blood Crown. And then I can move on to The Augury of Gideon.

Aunt Tudi and I have errands to run early tomorrow morning. I'll be purchasing more energy shots while I'm out...just in case. If they aren't needed, then at least I'll have them for NaNoWriMo and don't think I won't use them. I'm a maniac.

I find it frustrating that, for the first time in the history of the Cliffs of Insanity, I'm having to filter certain posts. This has always been a public blog and I hope that, eventually, it will become that way again for the most part. I've had to set some entries to private because I can't not write about what's going on in my life, yet I can't let people read what I'm writing about. It's distressing because I am, for the most part, a very open person. I don't like hiding. I don't appreciate insincerity, hypocrisy, or other such unpleasantness that can often be associated with the worst examples of humanity. Since I've never been a big fan of humanity in the first place, the worst examples hold a special place of perturbation in my eyes. What's even worse is when I let such individuals into my realms and find that, like a barnacle on a whale's arse, they're nigh to impossible to rid myself of them.

And that makes me angry at myself. Because I was fool enough to allow these people any access to my life to begin with, I'm now having to suffer their intolerability indefinitely. The situation is dire and untenable. And I have only myself to blame. I've suffered so much unwarranted abuse over the past few months and I've searched my life over the past few years to see if maybe Karma might be involved here. I have found nothing to merit such foulness. I'm still in the process of sorting out the situation. The more I'm forced to dwell on it, the more infuriated I become. If anger makes a better Sith, I'm the best Sith in the galaxy, this one or the other one that's far, far away. My rage has been sufficiently honed.

I am once again behind on my email. There just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day for me to do everything I need or want to do. One of my problems is focus. Fibro Fog has been a serious issue for me of late and this doesn't amuse me in the least. One thing that did seem to help that condition was my consumption of a couple of Arizona Rx Energy Fast Shots the other night. No, I didn't drink two at one sitting. I paced them out over the course of a few hours. I needed to be awake and alert that night, and I needed my faculties. I got everything I needed out of that, but I am not making a habit of drinking energy drinks. First of all, despite the herbal base of such concoctions (extreme caffeine notwithstanding), I don't think they're very good for you. They serve a purpose when one needs to remain on one's toes but, other than that, it's a poor substitute for overcoming Fibro Fog naturally. It's just something I have to deal with in my own way and without the risky effects of energy elixirs. That's not to say I won't get more Arizonas if the need arises, given similar situations like the other night. I'm just not going to Do Whacka Do on a regular basis.

Even though I have signed up to participate in NaNoWriMo, I have resigned myself to the fact that I will not win this year; however, that's not to say I won't succeed in my goal. There are two reasons I signed up for NaNo. The main reason was to challenge myself to finish The Blood Crown. Even though I doubt I'll reach my 50k goal required by NaNo to win, I'm pretty certain I'll come close to completing the second installment of The Vampire Relics. I've created a Facebook group for the Relics and will probably create an LJ comm for them as well. When I do this, I'll be deleting chalice_novel. gunslingaaahhh is going to be editing The Chalice, which will go up in installments in the new Vampire Relics community. She's currently editing "The Sainted Confessor," which is a huge chunk of The Blood Crown. That'll be the first thing to go up in the FB group, but it won't appear in the community over here until The Blood Crown is complete.

I won't win NaNo this year because The Joker Blogs is still going on and will continue past Samhain. I was under the impression the series would end at Halloween. This has been extended. I don't know when the series will end now. Who knows? The current series may end and then another may begin? That's total speculation on my part maybe just a wee tad of wishful thinking. Either way, when I committed to help Dude with my own odd brand of PR, I did so for the long haul or until he tells me to walk the plank. I can't turn away from my duties to TJB for the entire month of November. I don't feel right doing it. It's not who I am to make a commitment, then just wander off for a little while when I might be needed to do what I promised I would do. So I'll be balancing NaNo and TJB in November and that means writing 50k words in 30 days might not be the most realistic goal in the world.

Is it doable? It might be. I'm going to give it my all. I'll give my all to both projects. But some things, like email, may be neglected as a result. Best to leave me messages on my posts here or reach out to me on Facebook or Twitter. That's not to say I won't write you back if you send me an email. I'm just saying it may take a while. When you have no mind to wrap around all the things you're doing, life in general gets a little convoluted.

Speaking of email, I got an email notification of a comment posted to my You Tube channel. It says: Tinhuviel...WOW! I knew you from your Shriekback yahoogroup back about 10 years ago! Not sure if I was Lilly Tilly, Sierra Bloom or Heide (or was I meengreens) in those days, LOL

I read an awesome story of yours back then, something very Vampirish, with a man remindful of B. Great stuff... just found your name on a... what else? ... Shriekback video!

How freaky-cool is that? I remember HeideHo very well. We had some very cool astrological conversations, mainly about B's chart, which is oddly almost identical to mine, even though our birthdays are almost 11 years apart and we were born in extremely different locales. Guess that's one reason why we've always kind of grokked on both a spoken and unspoken level. I left a comment on Heide's YT channel and I've friended her. If I'm not mistaken, she's a Canadian. I love Canadians. It's good to reconnect to people with whom you've lost touch. I gathered quite a network of unique and talented souls when I went searching for fellow Shriekback fans in the hope of rallying a revival of the band. That goal was met and produced some wonderful friendships, inspired creations by fans, and surreal encounters (like my visit with B in 2006). There's nothing I love more than to be an active part of a group of souls coming together for a common purpose and, as a result, Making Things Happen. Yes, that's capitalised for a reason. It's that important. And it always thrills me when souls that may have drifted apart, find their way back to one another. Now, if only Me'Shel'le would emerge from her hidey-hole...

I'm about 1/3 of the way through another Date story, this one called "The Artist's Date," and is a sort of 'thank you basket' to luvthyjoker for the lovely art she's so far contributed to The Vampire Relics. It's your typical Joker Date Night tale with the 3 rules to be followed strictly: 1) A Heath Ledger Reference, 2) An original scar story, and 3) the Date dies. There were a few special requests for this particular date since it is, after all, luvthyjoker's date. She's a horror nut and is truly looking forward to being murdered by J. This is not to say I want her dead in any way, shape, or form, but her wish is my command and J's absolute pleasure. Not sure where this will fit in the chronology, but Sidney's alive, so it's definitely after "The Nun's Date," where he was introduced. I'm not sure if I ever mentioned that Sidney is based entirely upon Sidney Poitier, who starred in Lilies of the Field. That was my paternal grandmother, Granny's all-time favourite film and, since it has to do with nun's it just made sense to me to connect this movie with "The Nun's Date" and introduce a little grounding energy to Joker's madcap existence. And I'm probably going to hell for making such a connection. Yet another reason I should be preparing my handbasket now. I'm truly racking up the Hell points these days...trust me.

After I finish "The Artist's Date," I'm making a bit of a departure in J-fic Land and am going to try my hand at writing Joker as a woman. Why? Well, it's another "thank you basket," this time to acook, who did a fantastic reading of a portion of "The Sainted Confessor." Over time, she's been creating a costume tailored just for her and her version of Joker. No, she's not dressing as Joker or as a girl trying to be Joker. No no no, it's not that simple. No. acook has defined herself as Joker, had Joker been female all along. acook is Femme Joker. That said, I'm going to attempt a fic based on that concept. I have no idea what it's going to be like and it will mean introducing yet another J into my already crowded head, but I think it'll be worth it. To give an idea of what Femme Joker is all about, I present this snappy little video. Prepare to get your Romany on.

While we're talking J-fic, I want to scream from the hilltops that the third chapter of The Endgame is available for reading. I can't stress enough how you really should be reading this fiction. It only gets better with each subsequent chapter, so you're destined to be hooked and happy for it. Here's the link to the third chapter, entitled Epiphany. paisleydaze is truly a rare talent in writing and her ability to bring life to her characters, even those who aren't originally hers, is uncanny. When I read her Joker, I can hear him in my head. I love it when that happens and, therefore, I love Soph's story. You should read it, I'm telling you. It's not just good Joker fanfiction, it's good fiction period. And I need to finish my picture of Claire that I began ages ago. Like I said...not enough hours in the day for everything I want and need to do. But it'll happen, every...last...bit... Or heads will roll. And that'll be fun too.

I'm surrounded by talented people for the most part. Some who think they have me surrounded also think they're talented. They should think better of it. But that's another rant for another day. For now, I'm just gonna sit here and be grateful for talented friends who allow me to tag along.

I think that certainly should be enough from me. At least for now. I'm around these parts, just lurking, watching and observing. I'd never desert you guys...unless offered plenty of money. Hee! I'm gonna try to doze a little now. Then it's back up to write some more. It's 33 degrees here right now. Unprecedented.

I began the process yesterday, posting in chronological order, beginning with 'The Nurse's Date.' I just got my first review. I feel really good about it.I don't normally do this. I read this story for the first time yesterday and decided not to review it because I didn't know what to think of it. It's so very decidedly different from ANYTHING I've ever read. Coming back today, however, and seeing that it still had no reviews, (and not being able to get this story out of my mind,) I thought I'd throw in my two cents and tell you what I think. So here we go. First off, your writing is very good. Exceptionally so. You are clearly intelligent, that much is sure. I found absolutely NO typos, no grammar mistakes, and no errors of any kind to speak of. That says a lot, especially if you take into consideration the length of this story. Secondly, I want to address the reason why I think you haven't received any reviews yet. And this is just MY opinion, certainly not fact, so if you disagree at all with what I am about to share with you, please, tell me. Alright, so, I think the reason why you haven't received any reviews is because your portrayal of the Joker, (which is frighteningly accurate and extremely well written, I might add,) is TOO Joker-ish.

I'm still writing on "The Sainted Confessor." I just broke the 10k mark and Cadmus has only now rendered Faust unconscious, fed from him, and placed immobility geasa upon his naked frame. Now it gets....fun for some, unpleasant for others. I'm on a writing roll. I don't want to stop right now. Those of you waiting on me for things, thank you for your patience. But this chapter must be written or the entire book will have to be tanked.

After I finish "The Sainted Confessor," I'm treating myself to a Date Story as a reward. luvthyjoker wants a date and so does my Reconciled J. Too bad it won't end up nearly as good for Canada as it will for J. In between that, though, I've a review to write and a short story to read. And I need to connect to some of my Tribe like I haven't in a while. You know who you are, Sweet S!

And I really need to figure out how to make myself a Faust icon without the world imploding.

Too bad I wasn't awake this morning to enjoy it. I took my jacked-up meds like a good little brain patient last night around 9 PM. Midnight came and I was still wide awake, just working away like a happy little minion, sweeping through the forums like a harpy on a mop (that one was for you, filmkitty), working on a drawing for paisleydaze, and rereading what I have so far of The Blood Crown. Y'know, hey lolly lolly just-a doin' my thang. Add to the mix an insane brainstorming chat-session about a viral campaign and Nerf management with luvthyjoker and Fox, the Clown's Updater over on You Tube, and you have the makings of a long and happy evening.

I was, that is, until right around 3 am, while I was online with rancid_rainbow discussing the need for a Town Hall Meeting, now that Little Bro has such a large and scattered team helping him out. Well, we were talking about that and music. And that's the last thing I remember until around 5 this morning when Aunt Tudi asked me to get up and give her her insulin shot. I woke up starved to death so I got a wee bowl of grits and couldn't even finish those. Aunt Tudi woke me a few minutes later, telling me to get my hair out of my food. I went and cleaned up, got rid of the grits, and wibbled my way back to the love seat to finish one more thing online before I turned in.

I woke up on the love seat at 2 PM.

So I've had over 9 hours of deep, uninterrupted, dreamless sleep, just at the wrong time of day. I expect I'll be up all night tonight. I'm not taking the meds tonight. I'll just stay awake until around 6 PM tomorrow evening. Then I'll take the meds and maybe I'll fall out at the correct time. What I really think my problem is, is that I'm by nature a night person. All of my creative efforts and thoughts kick my spirit up a notch when the sun goes down. Maybe forcing myself to sleep at night isn't the best idea in the world. I'm gonna try it for a while, but I may instead reverse myself completely and take my meds for a daytime sleep schedule, interrupting it only long enough to perform diurnal duties before crawling back into my coffin.In other news, I am officially retired from writing The Date Series. I know I've said that before, but this time is different. Yesterday, I deleted my j-Tunes from my i-Tunes playlists and from Son of iGor. If nothing else bespeaks finality, that does to anyone who truly knows me. The tale is in the music. If the music is dispersed, the tale is over. I have achieved Zen Oneness with my Joker. All the Js that were crowding my head merged into one happy, reconciled, shiny new Head Joker who can now reside in the brain pan and give advice on chaos, anarchy, and dealing with difficult people as needed.

There was one other J-fic I was considering writing, and I actually started it. Its working title was "One Pretty Bad Day," and it was to follow a day in the life of J, who has apparently fallen victim to Murphy's Law. Yes, it was a comedy. No, there was no violence or sex involved. I may still do it, I don't know. Right now, the only J-related thing I have the time or sanity to focus on is The Joker Blogs and making sure Little Bro gets to do his thing in the way he wants to do it, with no or close to no distraction or bother. Where my mind is right now, any J-related writing will be in that vein, for the maintenance and furtherance of Little Bro's growing empire. My new Head J, who sits next to Maul on the Council of We'll Kick Your Ass and Laugh while We Do It, will be very useful to my psyche as I keep on keeping on in this capacity. The characters that inhabit my head are my archetypes, whom I tap when the need arises. There's never a dull moment when a Sith Lord and a sociopathic Clown with self-image issues are on the job. There's some other stuff I want to write regarding TJB, but that'll have to wait until later when my thoughts are gathered.I'd also like to get back into HG World Zombie Drama podcast, but I'll be needing a new mic before I can do that. Mine is knackered. I may as well string a tin can to one of my USB ports. I thought I'd be able to get one this month, but it's not gonna happen 'til September now. I'm hoping I can still be a part of it in some way by then. I had a hella good time doing what I did with 'In the Flesh.'

There's that, and I've gotten the bug to start drawing again, thanks to my interp of one of paisleydaze's characters. After I finish that, I may try my hand at a new Cadmus picture. It's been years since I drew him, so I'm sure he's changed in subtle ways that will only come out on paper. Heck, for that matter, I may as well draw him and Orphaeus together, since The Blood Crown is as much about the dynamics of their relationship as it is about anything else. Now that I have new artist friends who can give me good advice and beat me about the head with easels if need be, I feel much better about drawing and being able to improve myself.

And, for the first time in quite a long time, I have The Blood Crown open and looking at me from the computer monitor. I feel rejuvenated from my fan fiction vacation, even though that holiday took a right turn at Albuquerque when it should have taken a left. All in all, it was a scream, as opposed to The Vampire Relics being a Shriek. Totally different vibe. And now I'm getting back into the dreadful poetry of Cadmus Pariah and company. Once more into the Abyss...

Better untried than found defectiveBetter unhinged than unselectiveBetter messed-up than compromisedBetter ignored than not emphasized

Joker jumped out of the car and was up the steps of the old warehouse before Cathy had even gotten the heavy door of the Gremlin open enough for her to maneuver herself out of the unwieldy car. Gremlins had always been a bitch in every way. She was glad they were near extinction. Finally making her way out of the blue monstrosity, Cathy made her way up the steps and followed the Joker into the old warehouse.

Inside, it looked like it may have been a rag factory at one time. Cathy could almost see the neat rows of sewing machines, a harried woman sitting at each one repeating the same stitch for 8 to 10 hours over and over and over again. Now the place was nothing but dingy dust. She looked around and found the stairs. Yes, a two story rag factory. The boss probably would have lived here, too, to oversee his textile empire at all times. There were probably apartments near the back of the building.

“C’mere Twist Tie, follow me. My place is back herrre,” Joker said, taking Cathy’s hand and making a dash to the back of the warehouse. Cathy was in heels. She couldn’t go that fast and she faltered. The Joker stopped and looked at her.

“Can we just go at a normal pace?” she asked.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Why don’t you go at your normal pace and I’ll be back there waiting on you?” And he was off in a full run, laughing the entire way. Cathy was beginning to feel a little hurt by his attitude. Still, she followed.

When she joined Joker at his little apartment, she found a bedroom with two mattresses on the floor covered in a crumpled blue sheet and patchwork comforter. Beside it on the floor was a boom box and about half dozen CDs scattered on the floor. Adjacent to the bedroom was a small bathroom and a kitchen nook. And that was it. No money, no gold, no spoils of the Joker’s reign of terror on the Syndicate’s pawn racket. She wondered where it was, not that she was interested at all in the Joker’s riches. No, Cathy was here for one thing and one thing only.

This one is dedicated to the following who compelled me into this mess: Xandy (my writer friend. Visit her at http://www.covermyscript.com/), Kanike (the Abbott to my Costello, the Butthead to my Beavis, and the Webmonster who hides under everyone’s bed. You can see her work at http://www.rancidrainbow.com and http://www.thejokerblogs.com) and Blog Boy (Little Bro. You can’t visit him yet, but you can see his genius at work athttp://www.youtube.com/thejokerblogs or check yourself into his asylum at http://www.thejokerblogs.com ). One of Xandy’s short stories inspired the idea for this, Kanike hounded me to doitdoitdoitdoit, and Blog Boy had me keep Word open waaaaay too long during my Grieving process for me not to take virtual pen in hand. Then there’s the cheerleading team, Megs, Jilldo, and Sweet Sophie (with her wretched little tree rhyme…she should be set aflame and thrown into that four-story sink hole in Toronto!...okay, well maybe that’s harsh. I love my Sweet Sophie….I just want to punch her once..really hard..right between the eyes….) Each of you (except for Xandy) deserve a swift kick to the tuckus. Or maybe reading this will be punishment enough.

Musical nods to the Everly Brothers (who gave me the Cougar’s name with their song “Cathy’s Clown”), Dave Matthews Band, Kasabian, VNV Nation, The Prodigy, Taco (not the food, youngsters. Look him up on You Tube, along with the word ‘Ritz’ and get edumacated), Sting, and Three Dog Night.

The Cougar’s Date

She watched him from across the street, this strange little man in the clown make-up and the almost-Zoot suit. He carried a knife in each gloved hand, and he was backing out of a pawn shop with two of his partners bagging money, guns, jewelry, pretty anything of any worth. He popped his head back in the door and said loudly enough for her to hear across the street, “Oh, and, don’t forget ~ tell the Falcone, Maronis, Zambonis, Macaronis and whatever other onis that are temporaaarily in charge of this town that Joker was herrre…and I’ve only just begun. oohaaAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

And with that, she watched him almost dance down the street behind his two henchmen, shoving a knife in each of their backs and catching their bags as they dropped to the ground unceremoniously. He jumped up and it looked like he may have clicked his heels as he hopped into the old sky blue AMC Gremlin and sped off into the dimming Gotham twilight.

God, he was hot….in a strange, clownish, murderous, psychopathic way. She’d been trailing him for days, watching how he worked, wondering what his motivations were. Surely he took some downtime, maybe went to a bar or somewhere, where she could chat him up. That was the idea. She knew that, if she could just get him alone, she’d have him out of that strange thrift store suit and grease paint before he knew it. He wouldn’t know what hit him.

Thanks to rancid_rainbow, a special disclaimer needs to go with this part of the story. She and I engaged in a word association exercise where she presented me with a word and I'd give her the first word that came to mind in response, which is how it works. She thought it would be amusing to throw Joker Blogs-associated words in my direction since she knew our exercise was going into the story exactly how we played it out in IM. I have an especially hard kick reserved just for her if I ever meet her face-to-face. First I'll hug her, then I'll kick her. That's the plan. That said, the word association you're about to read is, funnily, word for word. ::kick::

Also, don't go any further if sex and violence freak you out. What do you expect, though? This is, after all, a date night. Sheesh.

I got a tad side-tracked and never posted the final date story here. Yeah yeah, I know, 'The Final Date' was supposed to be my final date, but things happen. This is the last one but, chronologically, happens after 'The Goth Chick's Date (aka the One that Got away)' because J has his iPod (from the dentist), but he doesn't have his hedgehog yet. I never formally introduced Sidney. Since this was my only chance to do so, I did. Sidney was originally conceived as a one-shot character, based on Sidney Poitier. Mr. Poitier starred in one of my patriarchal grandmother's favourite movies, Lilies of the Field. The movie was about a fraggle of nuns and how Poitier's handyman character helped them out one Summer. When I wrote 'The Nun's Date,' the first thing I thought about was this movie; thus, the existence of Sidney. There'd been so many people who were fond of him, though, I kept him around much longer than the Joker ever would have.

Uhm...disclaimers. If you're easily squicked, don't read this mmkay? I don't know what else to say. Oh, it's probably full of typos and whatnot because I was in a mad rush to finish this Monday night and had no time to proofread. And I still haven't because I've been too busy with other stuff. If you notice anything hideous, give me a shout so I can change my file. I doubt I'll change it here because HTML makes it very difficult to find the offense in question.

One thing's for certain, writers' withdrawal sucks. This is second day and, already, I'm missing this character. If I can make to Saturday, though, I should be okay and can turn my attention back to The Blood Crown. I've no doubt I'll make it without giving in this time, though. Fellow J-fic aficionados: consider Tin officially retired with this story. Whee!

Props go out to Kanike, who helped with the word association therapy and with naming the psychologist. Oh, and many thanks for the therapy in general. It’s a difficult job being a psychopath…..on paper that is. Ha.

Also many props go out to Gunslingaaahhh, Masquedbunny, MsManagr, RevClaudia, Opal Lynn, and Mldrfan, who offered support and suggestions regarding the Heath references and phobias. Special props go to Guns, who offers up all manner of Heath education I did not possess prior to this operation. I swear, J would never have a date if it weren’t for his harem of willing supporters.

One duty was to extend the hand of friendship to someone I barely know, but to whom I feel a weird kinship to, despite him being the Anti-Tin on many levels. Should we ever meet in person, we'd cancel each other out and people within a 30 mile radius would drop like flies from the effect of it. I know these things.I must write a couple of pieces for the LJ Idol book that's being published. If I'd been told a few years ago when I competed on season one of therealljidol, that there would be a book being published, featuring various writers who had been involved in the competition, and featuring all the winners of each season, I would have laughed my silly ass off right in front of the messenger. It was requested that a person submit three of their entries used in the competition of which they were a part, with no guarantee that any of them would be accepted into the book. All three of my entries are going in. I also have to write a piece on an open topic and one on one of two writing prompts. I can't publish any of what I write here on the Cliffs, because the pieces are supposed to be for the book alone. This really kills me because I'm used to posting everything here, the good, the bad, and the hideously ugly. I learned just this evening that my posting habits can cause confusion and distress at times. Who knew the Cliffs could be so controversial at times?

It must be human nature to press the big shiny history eraser button even though it comes with a ton of warnings not to press. Then again, it was my goal to portray J as what he always was, not a sweet-natured fella with a clown fetish. You don't want to date him unless you don't want to live. The man has issues and I warned people that the fic was probably the worst I'd ever written. I'm a student of serial killers. Hell, I even went on a Ripper walk. I've stood where the Ripper did his handiwork. If you think for a minute you're going to get bedded by the Joker and not walk away dead, or at least with a few dozen cuts, you're out of your mind. Granted some did survive, but only because I wanted them to. You can't have every fic be the same. Anyway, there was a disclaimer and a cut. If you clicked it and read, what on Earth did you expect? I'm a dark person. I have dark characters that inhabit my head. I'd continue to write the Date Series, had my Head J not been infiltrated by Blog Boy's interpretation. Since he's done that, though, I can't go about writing the horrible things I do with even a speck of BB present in the plot. It's creepy and goes against my vow to prevent such hooha from ever reaching him.

So, tonight. I think I'm going to focus on the open topic tonight, maybe discuss how music is the driving force behind many writer's creative mojo, which brings to mind the idea that creativity is cyclic, that one artist feeds the other and what's being created is certainly transformed in the hands of each manipulator of creative reality. Yeah...that. We'll see how it goes. If it's not accepted by the publisher, I'll post it here.

I'll work on one or both of the prompts tomorrow. I'd be nice to have six entries in the books. The more mentions, the merrier, as far as agent-shopping goes. Although I've almost given up on that anyway. People prefer the straightforward approach to reading and writing these days. The 'For Dummie's' books and the 'Twilight' series certainly put my work in its wordly place, lemme tell you. Just because it doesn't bespeak of your age, doesn't mean it's of any less worth! Lord Byron would love The Chalice, so screw you all!

I'm babbling. I'm going to go babble in a more constructive way now. Maybe after a quick nap. An hour maybe.

It took me an ungodly amount of time to write this story. About midway, it took a much darker turn, thanks to some outside influence that fairly pissed off my Inner J. When he gets angry....people die. At least the outside influence helped with the scar story. I'd never thought of a piano. So.. that said, I have a disclaimer.

There are some warnings that need to be made about this story. It’s not a pretty one. I know that the others aren’t really pretty either, since my J engages in serial killing as a hobby on the side when he isn’t perpetrating mayhem on a massive scale in Gotham. But this one goes above and beyond the call of duty when it comes to what some consider taboo subjects. If you are at all rape-triggery or you have issues with the killing of children, it’s probably best that you move along, as there’s nothing to see here. However, if curiosity gets the better of you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The majority of this story was scored by the astonishing Massive Attack, Fluke, and by the Prodigy.

I'm writing what will be the darkest Date Night in the history of the series. Here's what I have so far. It all looks pretty innocent but, trust me, how I'm gonna end it? The Nun's Date is gonna look like a Vaudeville joke.

The Neighbour’s Date

He sat in the lofty comfort of his second floor room, gazing out across the endless ordered lawns that surrounded what his neighbours thought was an abandoned millhouse. The Joker’s place was the eyesore of this neighbourhood and the people who lived there inclined to keep their eyes averted from the place, hoping that it would someday go away. Much like the way people reacted to him when they saw him, either with or without the war paint.

But the Joker didn’t care. As long as they stayed away and showed an active disinterest in his little corner of the world, he was pleased as punch. Judy even. He’d docked his iPod, the very one he’d taken as a souvenir from the lovely dentist who had no vision beyond her little organised universe. It was people liked that the Joker liked to make squirm before he killed them. I wanted to see the realisation of Chaos in their eyes before he released them into Oblivion, a flesh gift to the gods of Existentialism.

He had an itch and not one you could scratch with one of those curly pieces-of-shit wood you get at tourist traps. It was further fueled by the music his iPod had decided to play on shuffle. Lots of Massive Attack. Dr. Romello had had a thing for this band, apparently, and the Joker could see why. The steady, driving beats, the wall of bass, the undeniable sonic manifestation of seduction could not be denied. And that was what J wanted now, seduction. He wanted to seduce and be seduced. He wanted to sink into the inevitability of flesh where madness and scars were nightmares in another world.

But he didn’t really want to go out this evening either. He’d planned on lying low since the uproar over the nun. The Joker could depend on Sidney to bring him someone, he guessed, but that did seem terribly antiseptic. The Joker chuffed heavily and rubbed his paintless face, gazing out to the far Gotham horizon. The sun was beginning to sink. Decisions, decisions…

About that time, a movement below caught the Joker’s eye. He looked down to see a woman of about 35 staring up at him. Just standing there in his yard, peering up at him like she’d never seen another person before in her entire life. Not taking his eyes from her, J pressed a small comm button on the desk next to the window.

“Yeah, boss?” Sidney said.

“There’s a woman in our front yard staring up at me. Go..get..her.”

Sidney didn’t even respond back because he was that good. Why waste time saying “all right” when it had better damned well be all right? He watched as Sidney emerged from the house, his bald brown pate reflecting the evening sun. The Joker giggled at Sidney, who didn’t say a word to the woman, just grabbed her by the arm and hustled her in doors. Sidney didn’t play around. He liked Sidney. Turning his head away from the window, the Joker inclined the left side of his head to his bedroom door, listening.

And my bitter brain. This song has lodged in the brain pan and is fueling another Date fic. Dunno where it's going 'cos Head J hasn't told me yet and the soundtrack isn't complete. It's just this song and "Inertia Creeps" by Massive Attack. THAT...is not a good combination. I might include "Hypo Full of Love" by the Alabama 3 too. Why not make it crazy as hell and give it enough energy to blow readers' faces clean off their skulls? Or not. I have no idea what I'm saying. Need sleep. Will write instead.

Running Battleby KasabianAll lyin across the ground Try not to make no sound When two men goin break ya down Two men goin break ya down, I breathe All lyin across the ground Try not to make no sound When two men goin break ya down, I said Two men goin break ya down, I breathe

I take down what I need Cause you know I need to breathe I'm tired of walking on another plane Another plane cause I feel insane, I... Step back to get to you Cut back I'm fallin through Another day I feel the same I'm cutting and I'm bleeding here with you

All lyin across the ground Try not to make no sound When two men goin break ya down Two men goin break ya down, I breathe

All lyin across the ground Try not to make no sound When two men goin break ya down, I said Two men goin break ya down, I breathe

So keep those voices down Even if you dont make no sound A thousand voices makin all the mistakes The fire escapes and this code must break I... Step back to get to you Cut back I'm fallin through Another day I feel the same I'm cutting and I'm bleeding here with you

All lyin across the ground Try not to make no sound When two men goin break ya down, I said Two men goin break ya down, I breathe

With the addition of a 14th tale to what was my Coven of Dates, I've had to update my chronology.

The Cougar's Date

The Nurse's Date aka How the Joker Got His Hospital Uniform

The Hippie's Date

The Groupie's Date

The Actress' Date

The Professor's Date

The Dentist's Date

The Goth Chick's Date aka The One that Got away

The Pet Shop Clerk's Date

The Asylum Attendant's Date

The Nun's Date

The Singer's Date

The Clown's Date

The Artist's Date

The Banker's Date

The Final Date

Will there be more? Hell if I know! I'll have to consult with the numerous Js scampering about in my sorely-abused brain before I can answer that one. One thing's for certain: each one of these stories adheres to three rules I established with the creation of the first written Date story, "The Professor's Date." I'd never written the rules down, but I guess I should here.

Rule Number One: The story must possess a Heath Ledger reference. It can be obscure or blatant, but the reference must exist and be noticeable by Heath followers.

Rule Number Two: The story must contain a scar story prior to Joker offing his date.

Rule Number Three: It's to be assumed that, upon the telling of the Scar Story, the Joker will proceed to killing his date. This sometimes doesn't turn out like he intends and only two stories utterly break this rule with J's intentions not being murder at all, or least his intentions being changed before the deed is done. Those are "The Asylum Attendant's Date" and "The Final Date." Even in "The Final Date," J was determined to kill his gleeful partners that evening, until he had his plans changed for him.

So those are the only rules. Everything else is pretty much a free-for-all. I do have one personal rule that I've applied to myself fairly late in the writing game: Keep your freakin' J's separate, at all costs. Of course, that's easier said than done. For now, the J-itch has been scratched for all involved, so I'm free to return to The Blood Crown and get my hands all...bloody.

Written primarily for Kanike (rancid_rainbow ) as a gift for her relaunch of the refurbished shiny new version of Rancid Rainbow, this is kind of a bonus Date Night story. I’m thoroughly uncertain if any more Date Nights are forthcoming. Since I thought the series was finished, this was as much a surprise to me as anyone else who might be reading it. I kind of broke my brain writing this. Those in the know, know why and should take appropriate pity on me. In the timeline of dates, I’d say this one would fit in between “The Singer’s Date” and “The Banker’s Date,” since its definitely pre-“Final Date.”

Thanks goes to baxaphobia and lindseybits for enabling my “My Sharona” fetish for this story. The song is now ruined for me.

It should be noted that the Chaplin reference was written prior to certain revelations. That was just a freaky coincidence. But I couldn’t change anything because Tramples had been too ingrained in my writer-brain for me to rewire myself. I hate it when that happens.

I swore I wouldn't do it. I swore up one wall and down the other. But I'm doing it. It's all rancid_rainbow's fault. I'm doing my level best to separate the various Joker's in my head. The Date Joker was always my fun Joker, so he was a little susceptible to the fun-lovingness aspect of Blog Boy, which didn't work on the J-erotica front. So I had to retire the Date Night series. But here I am writing another. I think I've successfully found a way to pull out my old J-ness without bringing the "little brother" aspect into it, so here's to more dreadfully delightful Date Nights, or at least one more.

Here's what I have so far. Inspired in part by all my J-fandom homies, but dedicated particularly to rancid_rainbow. It's been hella fun so far, as has almost all the Date Nights, "The Nun's Date" notwithstanding. Thanks to baxaphobia for lodging "My Sharona" in my head, thus the name of the clown ~ Ramona. You see where this is going and what J will be singing at one point in the tale. And thanks to lindsaybits, who sent me the song, which I'd lost when my last computer died. Love you peoples in a dedicated Sithly way!

I'm gonna try to embed videos of each song, and try to educate about some of the songs used in, or helped to create, the 'Date Series.' So watch, listen, and learn. Or Maul and J may come kick your ass. Not threatening...just sayin'.

First of "Rock Steady" by Aretha Franklin.

"Roses Grow" by Concrete Blonde. Not much of a "video," but at least you get to hear the song!

"Roxy" by Concrete Blonde. This one named the 2nd main character in "The Pet Shop Clerk's Date." And I think it's one of the prettiest Johnette songs on the whole freakin' planet.